twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SIXTEEN

in which you and eddie take some time to figure each other out in the afterglow of honesty.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 2.7k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

16:00 ──────────ㅇ───── 24:00

HOUR SIXTEEN - 7:00 AM

Eddie’s favorite color is red. He likes his coffee with an obscene amount of sugar and creamer, which always leads to a regrettable stomach ache. He learned to play guitar on an acoustic six string handed down to him by his uncle, and he’s completely self taught beyond what his uncle taught him about basic notes. And his uncle’s name is Wayne. He refers to the man that raised him as Uncle Wayne. 

Honesty turns out to be quite the beautiful thing in the morning light, and for the first time, you feel as though you’re truly getting to know Eddie. 

It’s a give and take, an even exchange of bits and pieces of each other that are handed over without much thought. You finally have a clearer picture of the man you’ve spent the last fifteen hours straight with. A full photograph in time of who he is, who he really is, in a way that you wouldn’t have been able to fathom a week before. And it’s ironic, looking back on your relationship’s progression with him, the way you two keep skipping over steps before retracing to what was missed. How ironic you’ve let him see you at your most primal and vulnerable, but you’ve just learned his favorite color. 

Eddie Munson isn’t a dick. He’s kind, he’s a huge goddamn nerd, he can be funny sometimes, his favorite color is red, but he isn’t a dick as you’ve been led to believe he was this last year. 

Well, maybe led isn’t the right word. Everyone told you he wasn’t a dick. You just never listened. 

Eddie’s just revealed his favorite movie genre as horror when you’re leaning forward, elbows pressing into your thighs as you ask him with a grin, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

“Very funny reference,” he deadpans, barely keeping his face straight as he jokingly narrows his eyes, “Especially considering it’s the Scream franchise.”

 You still haven’t brought up that question of why exactly he fought for your honor after that fight. His grand reveal left you with more confusion than you ever could have anticipated, and more than this fragile friendship could handle this early in the morning. So you’d buried it down, somewhere deep inside, for the sake of the friendship.

“You can’t just say an entire franchise. Pick a favorite one, idiot.” 

Friendship. Was that what this was? When was the last time one of your friends had seen you naked, or ate you out atop a kitchen counter? 

“The first one. You can’t beat the classic.” 

You fight your smile in a similar fashion that he is. Mirroring joy, mirroring surprise, “You’re definitely only saying that for the whole homoerotic friendship between Stu and Billy.” 

“Oh, I definitely am,” he doesn’t even try to deny it as he cracks and laughs softly, “What about you?”

Even after nearly an hour of doing this, going back and forth and learning about each other, the novelty of Eddie genuinely asking you things about yourself hasn’t worn off. The curiosity that lights in his eyes, the way he leans into you to hear each word clearly – it makes you question if this was the same man who had once been so cruel. 

“My favorite scary movie? I… don’t have one,” you lean back into your chair, a small huff of air escaping you from impact. 

There’s two mugs of coffee on the small garden table between your chairs, having gone cold long since Eddie retrieved them for the two of you. That had been when he’d earnestly told you about his coffee preference – he’d been sweetly shy about the ordeal, bashful as he looked down at the mugs and informed you he’d tried to only put a normal amount of cream in yours, only a little bit of sugar. It had been so endearing, the way that when you asked what he meant by normal and he’d only murmured his confession of how he took his morning caffeine over the mug’s lip, you nearly caved into yourself. 

“That’s impossible. No way. Absolutely not,” Eddie is animated as he waves his hands around wildly in front of him, shaking his head furiously at your answer, “I refuse to believe you don’t have a favorite scary movie, especially considering you quoted an iconic franchise. If you can quote Scream, you can tell me what your favorite is-”

You interrupt him with laughter, scrunching up your face, “Okay, first of all- Eddie, hey,” he’s still rambling, still being terribly dramatic in the flailing of his arms, so you reach over to grip the forearm closest to you. All his movements immediately cease as his eyes widen, staring directly at you in an oddity of shock, “First of all, it’s just common knowledge of pop culture. I’ve never even seen those movies,” you’re not sure if Eddie is breathing as your hand remains still tightly clasped against his forearm, and you’re not sure why he wouldn’t be, “Second of all, I’m a wimp. Scary movies might be my least favorite kind of movie, right behind apocalyptic action movies.” 

When he takes a sudden deep breath, you realize he had been holding his breath, “Apocalyptic action movies?” 

You begin to explain, to list examples, and you never once take your hand off his arms. You rattle off a list – 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, San Andrea’s Fault, etc. – all the while feeling his pulse race beneath his warm skin. All the while selfishly enjoying the contact, wondering how long it might take staying like this before your fingertips would mold to him. Maybe they’d eventually melt into his arm, skin molten together so that where he ends and where you begin is impossible to distinguish. A closeness with him that you had never craved so ardently before tonight, before today. 

“So, doomsday movies,” he hums after you give your examples. If you were smart, you’d let go of him. It’s been too long for the contact to be brushed off as normal, “Does that mean you also hate zombie movies?” 

“Nope. Those are an entirely different thing.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re entirely different.” 

“They are. They’re completely unrealistic! San Andrea’s Fault… sort of… well, it could happen.” 

“They’re not completely unrealistic. Some of them almost have, like, legit science behind them.” 

You hadn’t even noticed that he scooted his chair closer. Or the slip of his arm in your loosening grasp, leading your hand until it rests against his wrist, so close to holding onto his own hand that rests palm up against his thigh in wait. 

An offering. 

“There is no logical way that one day, our world is going to turn into a real-life Walking Dead situation,” you say, trying to steady your breathing. 

You won’t make the first move. 

He’s leading this moment. If he wants to hold your hand, then he can take that final leap of faith. 

“Have you actually seen The Walking Dead, or are you just blindly making pop culture references again?” 

You can feel the thrill of his heartbeat pick up in the center of his wrist before he does it. With subtle movements, his wrist slips between your fingertips. 

Only for them to be recaptured by his own knuckles. The dust settles. The warmth spreads. Your palm is pressed to his palm, your fingers interlocked between his fingers. 

“I have seen that one,” you tell him quietly, looking down at your conjoined hands. His eyes are also downcast to them. The tendon in his wrist flexes as he tightens his grip on your hand, the small squeeze becoming more sure. It’s not an accident; this was never an accident. 

It’s in the hair you notice on his forearm, wispy and blonde and almost comical in contrast to the dark curls that grow from his scalp. A layer of fuzz that covers alabaster skin dotted in rare and faded freckles, nearly invisible unless you look closely enough. You can see the tan line across his wrist from where he would normally wear a watch. If you follow the details further up his arm, away from the wrist now awkwardly pressed against yours in a twist, you can see the faded blue-black ink of his tattoos. That flock of bats, the most faded of his numerous additions to his skin, taunts you. You’ve already known him up close and personal in the last few hours, felt him flush against you and memorized the way his body was capable of pressing into yours, but it’s in these details that the ache arises. The sadness that you’ve never known him quite this personally before this moment, and the fear that you never will again. 

An ache all because he’s let you close enough to learn the details of his skin – what a marvelous thing. 

“That’s a miracle,” he mutters, fully entranced as he rubs the pad of his thumb across the top of your fingers. You’re quick to return the motion; his knuckles are far more rough than yours, and you try to count the groves in them, from long weeks no doubt, all in that brief swipe, “Or else I would have had to have insisted upon ending this lovely honesty hour, and subjecting you to a marathon.” 

“We can still have a marathon.” 

You’d do just about anything to remain in this position, to stay this impossibly close to him. You’re selfish and you’re clingy, squeezing his hand a little bit tighter as he had done to you, as if the grip on it reflects your grip on the moment. You can’t let it go – you can’t let him go. 

No matter how you have had him, no matter how long he sits in this golden hour with his hand in yours, it will never be enough. This sudden and abruptly-arriving ache is incurable. 

You want him, you need him, you bloom for him. 

There’s something in his smirk as he awkwardly uses his freehand to bring his mug of too-sweet coffee to his lips that almost whispers that there’s a chance: he also wants you, he also needs you, he also blooms for you.

 And so you tell him about yourself in turn. You don’t just stop at your distaste for horror or your fear of doomsday movies. You tell him how you don’t have a favorite color, how you switch it up too often and all he can do is chuckle at your indecisiveness. Once, an insecurity – now something silly to find amusement in at his side. You reveal to him your coffee preference; you take it with a normal amount of cream and just a little bit of sugar. You don’t reveal to him that before today, you’d always turned your nose up to hot coffee, an iced coffee connoisseur. Something in the sparkle of his eyes warns that he might already know. You don’t play any instruments, but you have a list of songs for him to learn, insisting that someday he’d have to play them for you on that guitar his Uncle Wayne gave him. (You can’t think too much on the way you’re once more speaking in some days with him. Your heart might burst if you do.)

You try to bare your soul, to stare down the barrel of honesty, just as he had. It’s scarier than you could have imagined. Finally, after fifteen hours, you get it. 

You get it, and it only makes you squeeze his hand tighter. 

At some point, he notices the way the sun is warming both of you with each passing minute, palms now sweaty against each other as he asks, “Do you want to go back inside?” 

No. I want to live in this moment for the rest of my days. “We can if you want to.” 

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” 

“Tell me what you want. You constantly do that with everyone else, you know. Let them make the decisions,” he’s smiling softly, eyes squinted against the sun now rising high in the sky, “I can’t even count the amount of times you’ve said that to Nancy on both hands. Which, I mean, awesome – Nance fuckin’ loves being the decision-maker. But we’re talking about me. You’ve never been shy about butting heads with me.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Quite the sudden high horse, Mr. Honesty.” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Well, it’s honesty hour. So, here’s more honesty – I love when you give me a run for my money. Who else is going to tell me to shut the fuck up when I’m on track to ramble for hours about Lord of the Rings?” 

“You want to talk honesty? I would only tell you to shut up because I might have blown my cover and you’d realize I actually enjoyed your company.” 

The soft smile widens, more shameless and more radiant, “Coulda fooled me.” 

“I did fool you,” you tease, and your hand slips from his, but the warmth left behind doesn’t. It’s buried deep in your bones now. 

Things will never return to normal, not for you. It isn’t a bad thing – it’s only a sure thing. 

“For what it’s worth…” he pauses, that smile faltering. “I enjoyed your company far more than I ever let on, too.” 

Is that why you fought for me, after fighting against me? 

He doesn’t let you reply, instead smacking both of his now free palms against his thighs as he moves to stand, “Anyways, I actually do happen to want to go inside,” he gestures to those faded swirls of tattoos across his biceps and forearms, “I don’t expose myself to too much sun for obvious reasons.” 

“Reasons being you’re a vampire?” you tease.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, “Yes, it’s definitely because I’m a vampire and not because of these sick tatties.” 

“Calling those abominations sick is pushing it,” you playfully counter as you scoot to the edge of the seat of the chair, unsticking your thighs from plastic, “And I knew it. Your skin is practically glittering like diamonds, Edward.”

He scowls. “So Twilight is off the marathon line up.” 

He sticks out a hand, the same one you had clung to for most of your conversation with each other. You don’t take it immediately.

“There’s going to be a marathon?” 

“You’ve got something better to do?” 

The thought of cuddling up with him on the couch has your heart pounding. Honestly, the couch would now remain tainted for the rest of your days. You might even continue to avoid showing up to his apartment just to avoid flushing red any time you see one of your friends take a seat on the spot he once took you on, had pressed into you as your knees had dug into those cushions, as you had moaned his na-

You had to stop thinking about it before he noticed your thighs pressing together tightly. 

“For the record,” he says, hand still extended, unwavering as the sun forms an aura of gold around his outline, “Honesty hour doesn’t have to end when we go inside. From here on out, I actually insist that it be on the table. One of the perks of being my friend, I suppose.” 

Those are the magic words. You don’t need to immediately know why he fought for you, or why he really led you to believe he hated you for so long. You don’t need to know why he kissed you and you don’t need to know why he’d changed his tune so suddenly the first night you two met. All you needed to know was that if you wanted to know, if you ever find the guts to ask him about these things, he would tell you. 

You reach out and take his hand.

Immediately, he pulls you comically hard out of your chair. When you fumble directly into his chest, he’s already chuckling and wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble, pulling back and glaring up at him without any true venom, “Eager much?”

“Very,” he boyishly grins down at you and your heart skips a beat. 

Eagerly, wildly, suddenly, comfortingly – he now occupies a space in your brain you weren’t aware existed. It almost whispers I was always here, always waiting for him. 

The two of you don’t waste any time as he tugs you inside, the promise of a movie marathon awaiting the two of you. 

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

Penalty Box— Trevor Zegras (Part Seven)

SERIES MASTERLIST

previous: six

next: eight

corresponding quinn post

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 2023

PREGAME

yourusername

liked by colecaufield, trevorzegras, and 4,311 others

yourusername welcome to my pregame update: bets addition! trevor currently stands at 4 games without a penalty, and quinn stands at 5. the last pic is the bets for tonights games! after the games, i’ll let you all know who owes what <3

game day, yay day!!

tagged trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, jackhughes, lhughes_06, jamie.drysdale, _alexturcotte, and colecaufield

view all 317 comments

trevorzegras it’s on😤😈

yourusername be an angel i want money

jackhughes be a devil (😏) i want money

user1 there’s so many possibilities here omg

user2 i want to be a fly on the wall if they’re all facetiming

_quinnhughes may the odds be ever in our favor

yourusername ihy<3

_quinnhughes says the one who can’t watch mockingjay pt 2 without pausing to cry

yourusername ihy (x2)

jackhughes @_quinnhughes for once i’m with y/n

jamie.drysdale “what is it all for? what do you want?”

yourusername “in a word— chaos.”

trevorzegras stop quoting snl

yourusername @/trevorzegras but i truly started these bets for chaos

user3 who wants to bet how long it takes until half the league is in this betting pool😂

_alexturcotte it’s like hell week all in one night

colecaufield true

yourusername you’re welcome! :)))

user4 i love that jack is betting against everybody

lhughes_06 there is no way anyone is coming out of this unscathed

yourusername yolo

trevorzegras @/yourusername my love can only go so far please stop using that

lhughes_06 @/yourusername i agree

yourusername careful boys, i have your moms phone numbers

lhughes_06 @/yourusername my mom is literally your mom

yourusername @/lhughes_06 yeah, that’s how i have her number

jackhughes viva los vegas🎰

trevorzegras you’re not funny

jackhughes i didn’t ask

POSTGAME

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, and 6,289 others

yourusername welcome to my postgame penalty box update: ducks addition! today will have multiple posts, because i refuse to have just one unhinged photo. onto the news!

tonight, the love of my life (and current greatest enemy) received a penalty for slashing and is back to zero games since his last time in the box. i owe jack a lot of money and that’s simply the worst fate. thanks, babe<3

BUT THE DUCKS WON 4-2 SO AT LEAST SOME PEOPLE (besides j*ck🙄) WON TONIGHT!! stay tuned for quinn’s post!

tagged trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, lhughes_06, jackhughes, jamie.drysdale, _alexturcotte, and colecaufield

view all 702 comments

jackhughes why did you turn my name into a swear word when all i do is love and support you with my friendship?

yourusername you can’t even prove that?

jackhughes @/trevorzegras your girlfriend is gaslighting me

trevorzegras @/jackhughes you can’t even prove that

trevorzegras sorry you owe jack 2 hundy but i love you, forever🧡

yourusername mhmm i love you, always

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras she was cursing your name more than jack’s

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale that’s true love, baby

user1 y/n really put all her faith in her boyfriend and best friend and they did her dirty

user2 is no one gonna mention that alex also won all his bets

_quinnhughes i agree j*ck sucks

jackhughes what about brother solidarity?!

yourusername @/jackhughes 1. you bet against him. 2. best friend privileges so suck it

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes what she said

user3 when he’s a criminal>>> 🥵

jamie.drysdale you won by spending time with me!

yourusername i mean i guess

trevorzegras that’s just another L

_alexturcotte thank you for the chaos you created! love ya!

yourusername no, you just love the facetime screenshots of me crying

colecaufield @/yourusername i also love those and u

yourusername @/colecaufield @_alexturcotte i love you both too ig but ur on probation😘

user4 i cannot wait to see what happens when the canucks and ducks play each other

trevorzegras EVERYONE KEEPS COMMENTING THAT THEY LOVE YOU SO I JUST NEED TO SAY I LOVE YOU MOST, MY BEAUTIFUL CRAZY GIRL

yourusername i love you always, z🧡

jamie.drysdale gross

jackhughes brb i’m gagging

lhughes_06 maybe we should lower the stakes for the ducks v canucks game😂

yourusername i knew you were good for something! love ya lukey!

lhughes_06 love you too?

user5 this comment section has sm love for y/n it’s adorable

jamie.drysdale it’s because she cried

jackhughes this is charity work

Gates to Heck Chapter 4

"Shishou, I can't find him."

"Of course you can't." Reigen had a slightly manic look on his face, which had been there ever since Teru vanished into thin air. "He's not here anymore. Did he teleport? Can he do that?"

"I think it used up the last of his energy," said Shigeo. "It was already so low. Now I can't find his aura at all. I don't think he's in Seasoning anymore."

Shigeo took out his cellphone, ignoring the missed calls, and speed dialed Teru.

Teru was the one who had programmed his speed dial numbers. Number one was for home, two was for Ritsu, three was for Reigen, and four was for Teru. Shigeo was number one in Teru's phone.

An American pop song began its muffled chorus from somewhere in Teru's jacket, which was still sitting on the coffee table.

"Oh," Shigeo realized. "He doesn't have his shoes either."

There was a knock at the door that made both of them jump and Shigeo frown. As far as he knew, he was still the only person to visit Teru's apartment. Except for Claw.

He intercepted Reigen to answer the door himself, which was probably for the best, since the person on the other side already appeared to be in a bad mood, and Reigen would have only made it worse.

"Ritsu!"

Shigeo should have noticed the familiar aura sooner, but all he could think about were Teru's feet. It was starting to get dark outside, and the temperature was dropping too. The fever might have been failure-induced, but it could still be exacerbated by exposure to the elements. Teru was definitely going to need a hospital after this.

"Tell Hanazawa-kun that if he's going to keep you late, he should at least have the courtesy to ask first. Mom was worried when you didn't show up for dinner. Did you leave your phone on silent again, Nii-san?"

Now all Shigeo could think about was how Teru didn't have anyone to worry about him when his phone went unanswered or when he was late to dinner. He didn't even have anyone to eat dinner with.

Teru's living situation had seemed normal enough to Shigeo when they first met. A lot of Japanese children lived alone so they could attend better schools, and Black Vinegar was one of the best middle schools in Seasoning City.

Of course, most of them didn't start living alone until high school.

Not elementary school.

Shigeo hugged his brother. It wasn't a rare occurrence, but it was unusual enough to break off Ritu's tirade. At least until he saw Reigen.

"Did you rope them into another one of your jobs? I swear-"

"Save your energy, Otouto-kun," said Reigen, who seemed to have found his bearings again under the familiar power of Ritsu's glare. "I think it's gonna' be a long night."

Ritsu bristled like a cat. "I'm not helping you with whatever shady-"

That was when Teru's jacket started to vibrate.

They might not have even heard it if it hadn't been resting on the hard surface of the coffee table. Reigen patted the jacket down until he found a cellphone tucked into one of its pockets.

"That isn't Hanazawa-kun's phone," said Shigeo. They had just heard Teru's phone ring. Reigen was holding a cheap looking flip phone that Shigeo had never seen before.

Reigen answered it with an unsettlingly accurate Teruki Hanazawa impression. "Moshi moshi."

"Who the hell is this?" said the person on the other end.

"Who were you expecting?"

There was a snort. "He calls himself the Kaijin."

Reigen's eyebrow twitched. "What do you call yourself?"

"Misunderstood."

"You-"

"Look, I don't really give a shit," the voice cut him off, "but if you do, then you might wanna' know that Kaijin is in trouble. One of his catches slipped the net, and it was the one that got a taste of his aura the other night. I just felt that same aura flare up, and if our missing man felt it too- well, my gut says he'll be out for payback. He seemed like a Taurus, you know?"

While Shigeo was still processing the first few words, Reigen said, "So why don't you help him?"

"I'm off the clock," the voice said lazily. "I was just calling to tell Kaijin to bring the guy in if he doesn't get himself killed first."

He hung up. Reigen tried to call him back but the phone didn't even ring before being routed to an unactivated voicemail box. He dropped it back onto the coffee table.

"What's going on?" asked Ritsu. "Where's Hanazawa-kun?"

"That's the million yen question," said Reigen. He signed and ran a sweaty palm down his face.

Ritsu wrinkled his nose. "Why did Joseph call him the Kaijin?"

"That's a long- Wait." Reigen twirled around and put both hands on Ritsu's shoulders. "You know who that was?"

"I think so. Let go of me."

"Who was it, Ritsu?" asked Shigeo.

"It sounded like Joseph," said Ritsu, brushing off his shoulders. "You know, from the government? Suzuki-kun calls him sometimes for updates about his father."

"And he answers?" asked Reigen.

Ritsu nodded.

Shigeo didn't have Shou's phone number saved to his speed dial, or even his contacts, but he knew who did.

"May I borrow your phone, Ritsu?"

Ritsu handed it over without question, and Shigeo scrolled through the contacts until he found Suzuki Shou (Arsonist).

Shou answered on the second ring. "Ritsu-kun!"

"Actually, it's Shigeo," he said. "I was wondering if you're available to help us blackmail a government assassin?"

"I'll get my coat!"

Song: “ur so pretty” – Artist: Wasia Project

@rwrbmovie & @rwrbsource’s rwrbweek: Day #2 | Song

Fool Me Twice

A modern-day supernatural Everlark fanfic, full of surprises and angst. Who knew you could fall in love with the enemy?

Pairing: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark

Concept: Vampire & Vampire Hunter

Summary: Humans and vampires have been enemies for decades. Katniss Everdeen wanted the infamous vampire hunter in her hometown dead and she would do anything it takes. Her plan backfired and had to flee. Years later, Peeta Mellark is now the one out for blood… But what if he finds out maybe she’s not so evil after all?

Read Here on AO3

Stress Reliever

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem recieving), swearing, awkwardness because I got writer blocked, not my best smut tbh

Words: 877

Request: Can I request a Bucky Barnes SMUT story where y/n has a long rough day at work in the lab & Bucky takes a hot bath with her to make her feel better. Then takes her to the bed to blindfold her & “relieve the stress of her day.”👀 Maybe include oral (fem receiving). Sorry I’m bad at explaining requests…4.to take a hot bath with my muse14. to blindfold my muse “i could’t stop thinking about this pussy all day.” (As he’s eating her out)“i’m gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop.” “let me hear you, baby.”

Masterlist | Sebastian Stan Masterlist

Taglist: @dpaccione , @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes , @fandom-puff , @darling-i-read-it , @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @livlaughquinn​, @bubsonnobx ​

The warm water soothes aches as it relaxes your muscles, so Natasha told Bucky. It did exactly that, his eager eyes lifting from her breasts and watching as his lover's face contorted from pained to pleasured as her body lowered further into the warmth of the bath. He'd seen that look many times before, the look she made when she'd come undone on his cock.

He wasn't one to argue with an offer like that. Stripping naked like his life depended on it, he quickly slid behind her in the tub. His lips pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. With a gratifying sigh, she reclined back into his chest, eyes closed in pure bliss.

"Join me." Her gentle voice disrupted his thoughts. "Please?"

“Don’t pass out on me, or you’ll miss out on the fun.” He chuckled playfully against her skin.

"Not in here, I'm not in the mood, nor do I have the energy, to clean water from the floor." She grumbled, her eyes still shut.

Bucky snickered to himself but left the topic alone... Until they were out of the bath. He carried Y/N to the bed, setting her down gently before hovering above her. "So, can we have that fun now? I'll be the one to clean up, I promise."

Seconds after she nods, he's placed a blindfold over her eyes. It seems so naughty, but the suspense leaves her clenching her thighs together. Moments pass by, and all that happens is him parting her legs before leaving once again.

She sighed as his lips met her inner thigh. Her heart raced with shock and anticipation. By the time he finally reached her pussy, it was drenched and she was quite literally trembling. Bucky smiled, "All for me?"

No words, just aggressive nodding. Her reflexes betrayed her wishes, threatening to close as he neared his head to her pussy. It didn't deter him though, not one bit. As a matter of fact, it almost encouraged him.

"I can't wait to ravish you. Make you scream my name." Y/N knew that his words were not empty promises. Nothing else is said before he dives into his meal, tongue greeting her sex eagerly, lapping her up like a starved animal. He was ruthless, determined, horny.

Y/N practically screams when Bucky switches from licking a long stripe up her pussy, to playing with her clit with his tongue. His skillful mouth around her bundle of nerves sends her nearing the point over the edge, her head thrown back and mouth soundless, yet open.

"I couldn't stop thinking about this pussy all day." He confesses, a satisfied groan sending tingles up her body as it reverberates against her desperate sex. Just as she twitches and whines, so close to meeting her release, he pulls back. She almost regrets lifting her head to check on him. She slipped the blindfold up slightly and instantly bit her lip; the sight is overwhelming. His stubble is soaked, skin glistening with her desire.

"Fuck..." Is all she can manage.

"I'm getting there." Bucky chuckles, crawling back up her form. He presses his mouth to hers harshly, sneaking his tongue in with ease. She can taste herself, and the thought makes her shudder delightfully. "Hands and knees." Bucky commands as he pulls away.

She is quick to comply, racing to meet his expectations. Her ass wiggles at him, despite being in no position to tease. He reaches over her head, the blindfold is lifted. "You can't see anyways." He reasons with a mumble. Her quick witted response is tumbled out of her brain as his cock forces into her tight hole. A whine is emitted instead.

A slutty, desperate, porn-worthy, whine.

"I'm gonna fuck you until you beg me stop." He groans. The sound is gutteral, vibrating within his chest. He begins a pace. It's harsh, and the wet squelching does nothing to hide their obscene act. The bed moans under them, but he knows Y/N can be louder. "Let me hear you, baby."

She mewls, almost crying from pleasure. His hips slam violently into her ass, the skin jiggling much to Bucky's amusement. He believes that the sound it makes, skin on skin, is one of the greatest songs in the history of music. Her moans top it, however. The needy cries of "Bucky! Bucky! Oh god!" It's all he thinks about when he's alone.

The tempo begins to grow uneven. "Need you to cum, sweetheart." He grunts. Y/N chants his name like a prayer, too lost in finding her release to listen. Either way, she does what he says.

The coil in her stomach has been pulled to its limit, releasing violently the second his hips are angled a little differently. His mushroom head nudges her g-spot over and over, "Fuck, yes- Bucky!" She cries, pussy clenching around his cock as she cums around it. The feeling is enough to drive Bucky to his release as well. Spurts of cum mix with hers, a concoction made of lust and love. He slides out, much to both of their dismay, and leaves to grab a towel from the bathroom.

When he returns, she's mostly asleep, naked body atop the covers, exhausted from his merciless "help." It makes him smile.

"Goodnight sweetheart."

Movie Night

pairing: tom holland x reader

synopsis: in which you and tom decide to take advantage of your very first movie night all alone

warnings: smut, fingering, masterbation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), riding, literally pure filth

word count: 4.8k

masterlist

The sun was setting outside the window of the living room as you lay down blankets on the sofa and set up pillows for you and Tom’s nightly movie night, setting the late night scene with the new absence of light. Ever since the COVID epidemic had begun and you moved in with the Hollands to avoid quarantining alone, you started the already classic tradition where one of the five of you would get to choose a different movie every night and watch it as a family in the living room, adding in blankets and pillows to make it one big sleepover party on Fridays. With Nikki, Dom, Sam, and Paddy living away in a separate house, movie nights usually consisted of you, your boyfriend Tom, his brother Harry, and of course his best friends Harrison and Tuwaine. Usually you would have some help with putting together a comfy place for you all to relax, but there was just one key difference with tonight’s movie night; you and Tom would be watching it alone. After the last Friday movie night, a few of you started feeling a little under the weather, Harry Tuwaine and Harry with a terrible cough and lack of smell while you and Tom felt fine. Immediately you all rushed to take COVID tests and as suspected, you and Tom were both negative, but Harry, Tuwaine, and Harrison all tested positive for the virus and were really starting to feel the symptoms. With masks strapped to your faces, you all returned home, split up the house, and agreed that until the boys got over the virus, you and Tom would be their prime care takers and have to cancel all movie nights until further notice. Your domain to share with Tom consisted of the downstairs area, anything from the kitchen to the living room and the master bedroom you had been sharing with Tom since your arrival. Meanwhile, the sick boys were all instructed to stay upstairs where they had to share two bedrooms between the three of them as well as a single TV compared to you and Tom’s two TVs. Along with feeling bad for the sickly boys, you were sad about missing movie night until it came to your attention after several FaceTime calls and other online interactions with the boys upstairs that movies on Disney+ could be streamed at the same time on separate devices. Needless to say, you got right down to business and spent the rest of the week planning and strategizing how you could do a movie night together, yet apart. By the time Friday came, you had it all together. The boys upstairs would be watching it on their TV while you and Tom would watch it in the living room where you usually would. Tom had dug up old walkie-talkies from when he and his brothers were little and managed to get them working again, tossing one up to the boys so you could converse with each other without is desired. “Tom!” you shout. “Living room’s ready!” Your boyfriend walks out from the kitchen where he had been preparing snacks for the boys, a big metal bowl of popcorn in hand as he smiles at you. “Right love, I’m just going to get this up to the boys, make sure they’re ready, and we can start it up.” “Sounds good.” you confirm, leaving briefly to change into your pajamas. When you return, you spot Tom sitting upon the couch, the lights off and the movie paused on the TV as he waits for you. The walkie-talkie for you both lies on the coffee table, supported by a stack of books so that it is easy to reach and upright. You take in the setting, beaming at Tom until you notice something. You would have missed it if you hadn't taken the time to look around at the dimly lit scene. Your boyfriend sits on the sofa, his legs propped up on the leg rest, partially covered by one of your fuzzy blankets, his pajama pants peeking out from the bottom where the fabric ends at his feet, but completely bare on the top. From the moment you moved in, you knew new boundaries would have to be set for you and Tom when it came down to your intimate life as a couple. It was easier when one of you was staying at the other's flat, alone in the dignity of your own space to do whatever you pleased, but now, with others present, you both had to accept that for the comfort of your housemates, you could not be as active. It wasn’t long after when you figured out that having him less made you want him more and Tom felt the same went for you. In the past three months of the pandemic, you had been completely satisfied only twice, you both resorting to only short sessions that were sustainable, but never filling. Though you loved living with all the boys and could function fine without your fair share of Tom, you still desired him and how here he was, half naked and tempting. At first it’s just his shoulders, the blanket hiding what you know to be his perfectly sculpted chest and torso which allows you some peace of mind. You step closer to him, convincing yourself that his lack of coverage does not change your desire to watch the movie instead of doing something (or someone) else until he lifts up the blanket, showing off his abs that flex in light glimmer from the TV as his arms outstretched, gesturing for you to sit with him. You hesitate, not because you wish to sit apart from him, but because you’d rather do more than just cuddling. His bare skin is enticing. You start to crave his touch, not the tender type, but the kind that leaves you panting out of exhaustion. Your lascivious thoughts become increasingly worse as you are reminded of the lack of intimacy you two have been allowed lately with his brothers around. The very same brothers that are under strict instructions not to leave the upstairs area where they have a horrible view of the downstairs living room. It’s too perfect. “C’mere,” Tom requests, motioning for you to join him. You do as is asked of you, taking a seat on his lap as he wraps the blanket around his shoulder and the both of you, nesting his chin into the crook of your neck and his arms around your waist as he pecks you on the corner of your lips. You shudder. “You cold, love?” he asks out of loving concern. You answer honestly. “Not in the slightest.” Before he’s able to ask you to elaborate, static plays from walkie-talkie as Harry’s voice rings through it. “Are you guys ready yet?” Tom reaches over to the old toy and presses the reply button as he speaks into it “Yep, we’re starting it…now.” He paused to play the movie, simultaneously setting the walkie-talkie down. It had only been playing for five minutes, but you were gone. You were watching it, but you were definitely not paying attention as every word that left the character’s mouths flew in one of your ears and out the other. You were much more focused on something else as Tom’s hot breath fanned over your neck causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. His hands rest on your stomach, much too close to where you want them to be and his thighs were beneath you, only separated by yours and his pajama pants barrier, something that could be so easily removed. Your core is on fire, inflamed from the intensity of your desires. You have to fix it, you need friction, you need contact, you need him. “Tom” you breathe. At the sound of his name, your boyfriend plants a lengthy peck on your cheek. “What’s up love?” he whispers in your ear. You feel your cheeks heat up, his voice adding to the discomfort of not having him already. “I can’t watch this anymore.” Tom recognizes your tone of voice, needy and whiny, he knows what you want as his hands move to your hips to help turn you ever so slightly on his, just enough that you can see his face. His head leans into yours so that you can feel his breath on your lips, his words quiet as he whispers to you. “What do you want?” Your eyes shut and your lips part as his hands move up, his fingers spread as he feels as much of you as he possibly can. “You want me to touch you? To make you feel good? It’s that it, darling?” His hands dip under your shirt as they continue to ascend to the crease beneath your breast where your bra begins to cover you. “God, yes” you moan, leaning into him. He chuckled at your urgency, his thumbs tucking under the cuff of your breast while his lips, feather soft, meet yours in a kiss for what feels like less than a second. “Too bad I have to watch the movie.” His hands leave your skin and he leans back into the sofa, leaving you hot and bothered on his lap, your eyes widening in shock. “You fucking tease,” you gently shove him in return before standing up to leave, heading in the direction of your bedroom. “I guess I’ll just take care of it myself.” You don’t make it much further before Tom reaches and pulls you back to him, settling you back down until you're on his lap again, the blanket discarded and now beneath the two of you. “Oh babe, I’m messing with you. I never said I couldn’t multitask.” You tense into his lap as he leans into your neck, adjusting your body so that you’re facing the television as his lips meet your skin once more. His head moves up as he kisses you again, this time closer to your ear, just at the beginning of your jawline. He kisses you again in the same spot, then again a bit lower, and then again without any gain in pressure or intensity. His hands grip onto your hips as he handles you gently, as if you’re a ceramic work of art. Your skin burns where his lips have been. He elicits a moan from you, desperate as you are to have him already. You need more. Instead, he lifts his head once more and ceases from kissing you as his lips brush against the shell of your ear, shushing you softly. “Quiet darling,” he whispers as his right hand leaves your waist. “We don’t want the boys to hear us, don’t we? You know Harry, he’s already suspicious of us. Imagine if we didn’t win trivia tomorrow. He’d figure us out.” Of course, Harry’s trivia. You’d forgotten. Trivia night referred to the first few minutes of each evening’s movie night where Harry would ask a few questions relating to the previously watched movie and at the end of the week, whoever answered the most correctly won bragging rights and occasionally a sweet of some sort. No one was keen to the idea, but you knew it made Harry happy and as you all had nothing better to do, it soon became as traditional as watching the movie. As there were four of you, it was only natural that you all teamed up; Harrison with Tuwaine and you with Tom. Being extreme movie buffs from months on sets together and as the unhealthily competitive people you were, you and Tom had gotten used to winning every single week. You nod, agreeing that it would in fact be strange if you and Tom didn’t win as per usual, but then again, you much prefer having him over bragging rights. You don’t give a verbal response, but Tom takes your silence, your lack of any sort of erotic sound, as a sign to keep going. You keep your eyes on the screen, as Tom presses another kiss to the side of your neck, his lips lingering this time as you feel his right hand again, stroking your arm as he massages your bicep to help you relax. You sigh into his touch. Encouraged, he lowers his hand, moving from your arm to your waist as he peppers more kisses on your neck. You feel his middle finger dip beneath the elastic of your pajama pants and raise the hem above your skin before letting it snap back into place, He starts to ease it down with one of his hands while the other reaches around you to keep you steady, inching its way under your shirt to rest on the upper part of your abdomen. He kisses you gently, every few seconds or so, careful to not overstimulate you right away. But you’re much too eager to have a slow sensual session as you reach down and help him lower your pants. His hand parts from your skin and grabs your wrist, gently bringing it back up. “Patience darling. I can’t have you coming too fast now can I?” “Just get to it.” He listens to you, peeling off your pants until they’re on a crumpled pile on the floor and his hand is back on you. He strokes your arms again, his finger grabbing yours as he directs them down. “If you want to make it faster, you’re going to have to help out.” he whispers in your ear, his lips against your lobe as he moves both of your hands down and models your hand so that it’s against the dampened fabric, hovering above your clit. He guides it in small circles, showing you your favorite way just as you had shown him your first time. You massage it gently as his hand leaves yours to caress your arm some more, whispering praises into your ear. “Good girl, touching herself for me.” You inhale deeply, the knot tensing in your core as you apply a little more pressure. It’s enough to sustain you for some time, but you know it’s Tom that you need. His other hand starts moving upward as it cups the breast adjacent to it, over your bra that you were starting to wish you had taken off earlier. As if reading your mind, his hand leaves your arm and reaches back to undo the clasps, pulling it off from under your pajama shirt, his original hand reaching back up to cup you again. You stifle a moan as your nipples harden, the uncovered one peeking up from under your shirt. You speed up your own movements, needing more friction, more contact. Tom notices. He pulls your hand back intertwining your fingers, leaving a long kiss on your neck. “Here now love.” He directs, putting your hand on your other breast and letting it go so that you can do it yourself. His hand reaches back down to where you were as it sneaks in between the elastic and slowly peels it down, exposing you to the cool night air of the living room. Light from the TV reflects off of your arousal and he wastes no more time as he touches you. He reaches down and rubs your clit in slow circling motions. You have to focus on keeping your mouth closed as you fail to suppress a groan, humming in satisfaction. His other hand still kneads your breast, an easy movement for you to mimic on your other breast as the intense feeling spreads, growing from your gut. Tom’s finger strokes you, gliding over you, slick from your arousal before he slides one into you, pumping it in and out at a steady pace. “You’re so wet darling. And all for me.” Your breath quickens as his lips attach into your neck again, sucking this time. He nips the delicate skin with his teeth, pain that is then soothed by his soft tongue as he runs it over the sore spot. Your other hand reaches to find his bicep, squeezing it to release some of the tension you cannot let out from being quiet. “That’s it, that feels so good doesn’t it?” he murmurs against your skin, pecking at your neck again. “You’re doing so good keeping quiet for me.” You squeeze his bicep again, your back arching into him as he starts to speed up, adding in another finger as he starts to stretch you. His other hand adjusts, focusing in on your nipple and he swirls his finger around it and pinches it between his thumb and pointer finger. His pace quickens again as he pulls them out and forces them back in, overstimulating you as his lips attack your jawline, adorning you with wet-open mouthed kisses. Your mouth hangs open, you breathe hard as you curl your toes and arch your neck so that your head sinks into the crevice between his neck and his shoulder. It’s a close call, but you manage to turn every single moan into a small groan or grunt. You’re close, he can feel it, you both can. You move your hands and clutch into both of his arms, squeezing. “That’s it, y/n. Come for me.” You’re so close, almost there at the pinnacle. He moves his hand from your breast and clutches your thigh, squeezing it and forcing it to spread apart from your middle for more access. His movements quicken. You almost cry out, you and Tom’s cover nearly blown if it weren’t for you biting your lip at the last moment to stifle it. It was building, quickly, you were getting closer and closer with every forceful thrust from his fingers. You felt your orgasm, closer and closer until… “Oh my god! Guys! Did you see that part?” Tuwaine asks through the walkie-talkie, his voice booming through the speaker. “This film’s mad, isn’t it?” you hear Harry agree in the background of the radio. You gasp as Tom’s movements slow, but never stop as he keeps a steady pace, hitting deep each time. His voice is low as he rasps in your ear, coaxing and sweet. “Answer them.” he orders, his breath hot against your neck. “No,” you breathe, the thought of trying to string enough words together to make an acceptable reply is completely inconceivable. “I can’t, you have to-to…” “My hands are full.” Tom explains, his fingers taking up a now a pace so painfully slow as he takes them all the way out and leisurely pushes them back in. “Answer or I will stop.” he threatens. “Hello?” Harrison calls through the speaker. You groan in frustration as you reach for the walkie talkie beside you and press the button, bringing it up to your lips. “Yes,” you mumble softly, trying your hardest to sound like you were simply relaxing on the couch and not being railed on it. Hoping he would not want to discuss specific details, you think of the shortest response to end the conversation. “The part, we saw it.” “Good job baby.” Tom whispers in your ear, speeding up his fingers again. “What do you think of it so far?” Harry asked. Tom’s lips stick back onto your neck, sucking the delicate skin. “Fuck,” you curse, earning what you make out as a smile from him as he grins against your skin, still pumping in and out of you. You press the button again, hoping the sound of Tom’s fingers navigating through your arousal couldn’t be heard through the old technology. “It’s so good, so so good.” you answer uncontrollably, obviously not describing the movie. Tom whispers more praise in your ear as he speeds up his pace again. “Really?” Harrison asks. “We kind of think it’s shit, we’ve been laughing at it, but maybe it’ll get better. It’s not bad.” “Oh no, not bad at all.” you agree, earning another smirk from Tom as you toss the walkie-talkie to the safety of one of the nearby chairs and turn up the film to cover up any more of your noise. You lean back into Tom and stifle another moan as he nips another part of your neck. “You’re incredible, baby.” Tom praises as his fingers keep pumping in you, but after being deprived of him for so long, you know it’s not enough. You could feel him beneath you, bulging, clearly as needy as you, but too much of a gentleman to say so. “I want you this time.” you pant, reaching for his hand to move it away from your core. “I want to ride you.” “Are you sure? I don’t have a condom on me.” You turn around, briefly, and kiss him, a short one, sweet and inviting to clear away all of his doubt. “I want to.” you murmur against his lips, pecking them once more before you pull away for good. “Fuck me.” At once, Tom discards his own pajama pants until they too, like yours, lay crumpled on the ground, adding your own underwear to the mix as he adjusts you in his lap, helping you slide onto him. As you presumed, he fills you up instantly, forcing yet another pleasure filled hum of you as you suppress a moan. “Fuck, y/n, you’re so tight.” he grunts as his hips start to move, thrusting into you up and down as you bounce on top of him just slightly, still facing the TV. His hands slide up and down your body, one of them staying on your waist to hold you steady against him and support you while the other moves back up and pulls your shirt up until it pools against your collar bones. He kneads one of your breasts that he cannot get enough of. “Faster, baby.” you request and Tom is quick to obey as his thrusts start to speed up. His breath is husky, in your ear as he too now has the burden of hiding his own noises. “Y/n,” he moans, careful not to be much louder than the TV as he squeezes you hard. His new speed and angle allows him to hit your spot, never missing as he gets it with each powerful thrust, his thighs flexing beneath you. You moan, loudly only barely being overpowered by the TV. You can’t help it. You feel Tom’s hand fall from your breast and clasp around your mouth. He’s careful not to hurt you, but his hand covers your mouth with such a force that you gasp, moaning again, muffled by his calloused palm that smells so strongly of you. “Let it out, love. Let it all out into my hand.” he encourages, egging you on as he thrusts into you even harder. You moan, his hand muffling you as your voice vibrates and fails to sound as loud as it would have otherwise. You reach back, your hands digging into Tom’s scalp as you bounce on top of him, your breasts rippling as you do so. “Come for me love.” You give in as all the pressure builds up to a climax, a finishing point. You close you eyes and let out one last ungodly moan as your orgasm overtakes you, Tom fucking you through it as you spill onto him. Once you’re released from your trance, Tom sticks two of his fingers in your mouth, still thrusting into you, sloppier and sloppier as he himself is so close to finishing. You suck on them, happy to help as you can taste some of the remainder of yourself off of his fingers, swirling your tongue around them. “Oh, just like that. Fuck, y/n!” he moans your name as your nails still scratch his scalp, tugging on segments of his loose brown curls. You feel him come as he twitches inside you and his muscles loosen beneath you, the warmth coating your insides. You both take a moment, his fingers leaving your mouth as you resituate yourself on his lap, facing him so that you may embrace one another in the chill air of the night. After a couple minutes Tom turns the volume back down to normal and helps you clean up by carrying you to your shared bedroom where you take your time washing up and putting yourself back together. Tom cleans himself up and takes care of the couch, throwing the soiled blanket in the wash and getting out another one that he fully intends to cuddle you underneath. When you're ready, you re-emerge from your room and get comfortable on the sofa with Tom, laying down with him as you enjoy the last ten minutes of the film, but neither of you are intent on paying attention even with so little left. Instead you find yourself facing Tom, enamored by his beauty and encapsulated by his comforting charm as he presses soft chaste kisses on your nose and forehead, holding you close beneath the warmth of the blanket.

♡.-.♡.-.♡

As you and Tom prepare dinner the next evening, a simple soup for the sick boys, you look up the plot of the film online and read it aloud to him, still driven by a need to win every trivia night even if you neglected to watch the film. “It’s time people!” Harry calls from upstairs, startling you and Tom. “You ready?” you ask him, helping him untie his dorky apron as the nerves surge through you. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” he responds, lifting the apron over his head and laying it on the counter as he grabs your hand to lead you to the stairs. He can sense how tense you are, you hand firm in his as you take a deep shaky breath. “You're not nervous, are you darling?” You sigh as he takes your other hand in his, lightly kissing the top of it. “We can’t lose, Tom. We just can’t.” He giggles at your competitiveness, knowing it to get the best of you at times as it can you, but luckily, he knows just how to calm you down. “Want to know something?” he smirks. With a nod of confirmation, he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and lowers his voice so that no one can hear him, but you. “Even if we do lose, nothing can make me regret last night,” He leans down now, bringing his lips to your ear as he whispers, “I’m happy to lose every trivia night if it means having you on top of me like that again.” You pull away from him with a smile, using your newly free hands to put up your hair so that it stays out of your face. “Keep talking like that, Holland, and I might just have to take you up on that.” He chuckles lightly and follows you out, joining you under the stairs as you look up to the other boys who stay perched at the top. “Finally,” Harry remarks, pulling out three index cards that no doubt holds his questions. “I was close to just giving Team Tuwarison the points for being the only team that showed up.” “No need,” states Tom, his glazing meeting yours as he nods at you in encouragement. “We’re ready.” His assurance ignites your confidence that your limited knowledge on the movie will be enough. You can feel the win already as Harry asks the first question, then the second, then the third, and then… “BLOODY HELL!” Tuwaine shouts in shock. “WE ACTUALLY WON!” Harrison yells, sharing the same sentiment as the two hug and jump in victory before separating to let out enormous coughs courtesy of the virus. You roll your eyes and pout from your place at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, get over it you bastards.” “It won’t happen again.” Tom concurs, just as annoyed at the antics of the two as you are. “I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!” Tuwaine shouts again once his coughing fit is over. “Neither can I,” Harry agrees. “What happened? You two are usually always on your game and you couldn’t come up with a single answer this time.” “You know what?” Tom starts. “We actually fell asleep.” he lies. “Shame, I thought y/n really liked it.” Tuwaine acknowledges, remembering your conversation from the night before as your eyes go wide, but you’re quick to save yourself from embarrassment. “Oh you know what, I think that was just during the climax.” you joke, earning a playful elbow from Tom who cannot contain his laughter. You join him, pleased by the inside joke as the other boys look down at you in confusion, wishing they knew what you meant. “I can’t wait until this COVID is over. You two are too weird to have another movie night without supervision.” Harry declares, turning to retreat to the room he shares with Tuwaine and Harrison and searches for the film you all will be watching tonight … or not.

Getting him to agree to get treated had been tricky. Burns and staples were his trademark, his mask. Without them, he was less Dabi and more Touya.

When it came to the one who had driven him into a corner and robbed him of his mask, there was no overriding emotion. In Dabi's eyes, you were just a nuisance, a useful tool for quick medical treatment with optimal results; Touya felt understood, but he couldn't trust you. But there was one thought that Dabi and Touya had in common: the feeling of your hands was very pleasant. He would even burn his ass as long as you and you alone kept touching him.

«Tell me you don't have any new marks, please.»

Dabi lifted his shirt and smiled mischievously; the moan he got in response was music.

His favorite.

«Your hands and arms are fine, though. How is that possible?» Another exasperated groan. «If this is your way of making me pay for every time I call you by your real name, then you should know that it's not working.»

The smile stayed where it was. He found the misunderstanding he had created amusing. He would never tell you the real reason, or else you would stop treating him, stop touching him.

He held back a sigh when those soft, little hands rested on his stomach. The tingling sensation that came after the green glow could be felt in other places as well, further down.

A shiver ran down his spine.

He couldn't tell you the truth, no.

You continued your own work, your hands going down past his navel. The more you fixed him, the more he found creative ways to hurt himself. «This is the last time I'm fixing you for free, Touya.»

He lifted your chin with an index finger. «What happened to "I know everything about you"? Do you take back what you said?» He tilted his head slightly to one side.

«It is precisely because I know everything about you that I have made this decision. You won't change my mind.» As you spoke, your hands had dropped lower without you noticing. «Oh» you exclaimed as you realized what you had touched. «I have to admit, I didn't know you were a masochist.»

«That's not true» Dabi retorted, grabbing your wrists and pulling you away from him. The damage had been done, but he wasn't going to allow himself to be humiliated any further.

«Don't worry, your secret is in very good… hands» you replied with a chuckle. «Ah, if only I could get a picture. Some people would pay to see the infamous "Dabi" embarrassed!»

«I'm not embarrassed.»

«Hmm. You're right. The correct word would be "excited". Or at least it applies to a very specific part of your body.»

Huffing, Dabi released you. Then he got up and walked past you. He narrowly avoided melting the door handle when you waved him off: «Don't waste too much water cooling your hot spirit!»

He slammed the door.

Your laughter followed him into the bathroom.

i don't bite (well, maybe that's a lie)

[it rotted my brain so much that i couldnt resist. thank u @jben073 for helpin me w the ending, my writing still sucks but wtvr... look lets make it modern bc im not doing research on old shit. my brains small so i dont wanna make it smaller. @wispexists made this beautiful art, check it pls pls pls its so good

anwho here it is

OH TW FOR BLOOD BEFORE I FORGET (vampire.. duh) ]

People's blood is a very sacred thing. In many religions, it's often considered the life of a human. Yet, it's something vampires need for sustenance. Most consider vegan diets, and some just become full on killers when too unregulated.

Stephanie Lauter is unfortunately, a vampire. From what she overhears, her dad made some deal with eldritch gods, and that's why she's here. Solomon Lauter hates his daughter, but she hates him back too. However, to not expose this secret to the public, he helps get Steph's cravings in check by supplying her with animal blood.

Yet, it's never a filling meal. She hasn't had a proper, enriching, bit of human blood in such a long time. Not since middle school. But never in a million years did she expect to drink the blood of the pastor's daughter, Grace Chasity.

Nor did she expect how delicious the blood would be.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every other day, Steph spends her nights at the old Waylon Hall. Hearing all the rumors about the place, it doesn't seem so bad. It's just really fucking abandoned and creepy. Nonetheless, a few candles and fairy lights powered by battery packs make the house look a lot less evil.

This night, she decided to bring more and more of her belongings into the living room. Yeesh, it's a damn mess. She swept the floor with an old broom she found in a janitorial closet, suited most likely for a maid. The more Steph cleaned up the hall, the more she liked that it became kind of her own hideaway. A very eerie home away from home.

After a few hours of just generally cleaning and decorating the main room, she smiled. For once her life, Stephanie Lauter had made something she was proud of. How fun.

Suddenly, she heard an opening from the front door.

For the months she had spent going here, no one had dare even approach the Hall's grounds. So who the fuck seems brave enough to wander in the most "haunted" place in all of Hatchetfield?

Who the fuck..

Steph had hid in some big closet in the room, and took a look at the girl trespassing in her space. In which she was also trespassing in. The girl wore a light blue sweater and a white button up underneath. She wore a brown skirt, white socks and Black Mary Janes. She had rolled up the sleeves of both the button up and the sweater and had her hair in a side part.

Look, she was already in a silk dress meant for sleeping, and she did not want to be disturbed by some girl. However, something just... attracted her. Steph sniffed something good. Better than the "wagyu cow blood" her dad ended up getting to satisfy the urges. Shit, this came from the girl, didn't it?

God- it smelled so good. That feeling of hunger filled Steph's mind and triggered her vampiristic instincts. She need to feed, fast.

As the girl turned her back, Steph quietly came out of the closet she was hiding him. Walking towards the back of her, she saw that her neck was wide open. Thank god for people parting their hair sideways. As she was about to feed, she snapped back to reality, wobbling back and falling on the floor. Of course, the girl turned around, and looked right at Steph.

"Oh my- who are you? What are you doing out here so late?"

The girl put a hand out, and Steph took it. She quickly responded, "I suppose I could ask you the same question, but I don't think I'll get an answer. I'm Steph." "Grace. My father and I were seeing the house earlier, and I left my 'What Would Jesus Do?' bracelet here." Steph nodded as her eyes are remained on Grace's neck and forearms. They sure do look appealing.

Grace yawned, and ended up sitting on the floor. Steph had already placed some sort of old mattress on there, and simply covered with a bedsheet. "Man, I gotta bike back..." Steph looked at the girl while she complained, and smirked slightly. With an alluring look in her eyes, she turned Grace's head to look at her. "Ah, it's alright. Rest here for a bit, I won't bite."

Grace looked nervous at the offer. She had to go home, she wanted to go home. Yet, this girl... Steph, she just drew her in. Before she knew it, her mouth muttered the words yes, and the two kept on staring at each other. "Now Grace, I have to ask you a question. Do you know anything about vampires and the like?"

"...no? If it's some kind of like, band fans, then I have no idea about them."

Steph looked shocked at this admission, and tried to think through how she'll phrase this properly. In order to charm a human properly, you first need a good approach, don't you?

"Ok then. A vampire is.. a creature who preys on human blood. They usually hate the sunlight, garlic, and silver. Got it?" Grace nodded. "I do. How come you're telling me this?" "Will you believe me if I say that I am a vampire?"

Grace looked confused at the question. Was this girl playing some kind of cruel trick with her? But, like God commanded, answer truthfully. "Why would I? You sound kind of insane right now." Steph smirked, opening her mouth and baring her fangs. They're way too sharp and long to be just a regular humans, and she put her hair back behind her pointed, pierced ears. Grace looked a bit scared, she's never seen a person like this, but regardless, she wanted to know more.

Something keeps telling her she wants to know more.

"And look, Grace. I'm quite hungry right now. Would you mind if I.. just got a bit of your blood~?"

Steph asked, leaning closer towards Grace. The closer she got, the redder the other girl's face was. She then pushed her away slightly, hesitance in her voice. "I... I don't- will it hurt?" "Probably, Gracie. Do you want me to comfort your boo boo, then?" Grace blushed even more, unsure what this feeling is towards the mysterious girl and confused as to what's happening.

Look, Grace had some strong willpower. That's what you have when your dad's the town pastor, after all. However, when she offered her arm to Steph, who's presumably a "vampire," that might be the complete opposite fact. "Go- just take what you need..."

The vampire widened her eyes. From stories she's heard, people need a lot more convincing. But this pretty girl just offers up her arm and blood? Hey, at least it was easy to get a meal for Steph today.

She took Grace's arm gently, placing it near her mouth. Jesus, the smell of the blood really came out. Her mouth almost watered at simply the smell, but why sniff it instead of tasting it?

Steph's fang suck into the arm, Grace wincing slightly from the pain. As she sucked the blood, she couldn't believe the taste. She couldn't believe how energized she was. And she couldn't believe how insatiable the feeling was from getting this girl's blood was.

Grace watched as Steph sucked the blood out of her arm. It was a bit painful, but is it weird to say it somehow made her extremely tired and excited? She could see her blood dripping down her arm as Steph eagerly feasting on her. It's scary, but it's somehow so attractive at the same time. She could easily pull away- it's not even like she's forcing her too.

It's just that... the feeling in her stomach that she gets from simply seeing this girl means letting Steph doing whatever she wanted. After a few minutes of silence and blood sucking, Steph lifted her head from Grace's forearm, wiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.

As Grace slowly put her arm down, Steph looked at her, longingly and hungry for more. Steph quietly said, "Do you- do you feel ok? Are you too hurt?" The other girl nodded no, and Steph stood up, walking around the room. On top of the fireplace, she rummaged through a little box and found a roll of bandages. Tearing a long piece of it off with her teeth, Steph began to tightly wrap the fabric onto Grace's forearm.

The feeling of Steph wrapping her arm with the bandage, hell the feeling of the wound itself? It all felt numb. Grace Chasity couldn't feel anything ever since Stephanie Lauter sucked her blood. All she knows is that it felt so damn good.

Finally tying the bandage off, Steph leaned back from Grace, letting her sit up. "Alright, let's see.." Steph stared into her eyes, rolling down both the button up and sweater sleeves, covering both of her arms. She stood up, offering a hand out to Grace so that she can also stand up beside her, "Now, I'm sorry pretty girl, but you can't remember this.. for a while. However," Steph paused for a second, twirling a big strand of Grace's hair.

"I have a feeling we'll meet again, won't we? You're of course, drawn to me, but somehow I am too. Even without drinking your blood, something intrigues me about you, Grace. Come back here next time, won't you~?"

As she let go of the other girl's hair, Grace simply smiled and started walking out. Steph hated the charm ability vampires had as she saw the girl leave. Sure, it benefits both her and the person who she charmed because now whoever she targets will have no recollection of what she's done. Yet, something about Grace made her want to have her remember tonight. She wanted Grace to recognize her face and know who left that mark on her forearm. Oh well, what can a girl like her do?

Sighing and lying on the mattress, she closes her eyes. That was good, no, great blood. That's settled. Great blood comes from the prettiest people. Who knew?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grace Chasity woke up the next day, in her bed and feeling somewhat extra tired. It was.. 2 in the afternoon? Huh. As she stood up and walked to the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. She didn't change at all from when she came back home yesterday from school. Thank goodness it was a Saturday, or else she would've gotten in big trouble with her parents.

As she turned on the faucet, she rolled up her sleeves so that the water wouldn't soak the fabric. The more she rolled her sleeves up, the more she saw that on her right arm, bandages tightly covered her forearm. Well that's.. odd.

Stopping for a minute, she pondered over how she got the bandage on her wrist. Staring at the blood covered and hastily wrapped fabric, Grace shook it off and began to start washing her face.

Eh, she must've fell while riding her bike.

and theres an irony in the way you speak. you act so brave but you are barely 2 months old. you speak big words and say smart things but inside your little shell you tremble. not much, though.

you dont fear death. its harbinger is your father, after all, and the very concept of it breathes down your neck. you didnt cry all those times you almost died and certainly not when you did. its a constant in your life these experiences. funny. you are only a child.

you sit in enclosed boxes as your father stands just outside, pacing, talking to the ghosts that squeeze him tight. some come to your glass to comfort you but you pay no mind. you worry for him. a part of you is scared he'll shatter apart from all the pressure! silly thought, that is. such a silly thought. you are only a toddler.

on the day you did die you heard stories of the anger your dad felt. you didnt cry. you felt guilty. and inside this small, small room you baked brownies for his return. you dont fear the inevitability of death - you fear the rage and sadness of your fathers grief. hilarious. you are only an egg.

theres an irony in the way you speak, brave and smart and snarky. theres an irony in the way you act, unafraid of death and boisterous. this persistent irony is funny to you. you are only a kid.

why does this happen to you?

Vax’ildan getting the ‘How do you want to do this?’ on Thordak (C1EP79) --- requested by @samuraiko

call me Bouillon Cube the way I got that stocky build

I could've posted this as a simple text post, but no, i was consumed by some quick energy which commanded me to draw it out

Read on { AO3 } - Part 2 of 2

This Part 2 was first posted to FF.net on March 31st.

Head Boy Draco x Head Girl Hermione

Summary: Hermione had dreamt of him again.

Cloaked in black, she ran through the dark halls, seeking the solitude and warm water of the Prefects’ Bath, but when she entered, she suspected she was not there alone.

The hard, male body that came up behind her confirmed it.

Draco had clearly been expecting someone else to join him tonight. But when he kissed her, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to stop.

Warnings: Smut/Open Ending/Dom Draco

Excerpt: 

“I want to stay.”

And those words had barely left her tongue before Hermione was whisked around, suddenly cradled in Draco’s arms again and any worries about intentions or reputation were discarded, like her cloak now lying on the bathroom floor.

At that moment, they could’ve been any two people in the world - war-torn history and House loyalty temporarily forgotten.

Supposed to be enemies, but their lips melded together all the same.

She could feel the strength of Draco’s arms on her back as he kissed her, this time with a surprising intensity that forced the air from her lungs and it quickly became apparent what he’d meant about ‘not being so nice’ this time. His grip on her hips felt tighter, possessive, his mouth claiming hers with no hesitations. Not an ounce of this kiss was tentative or gentle. It was all encompassing, enveloping her in a heat hotter than the water of the tub she’d sought out tonight.

In a shock to her senses, Draco’s hand began to graze gently down her neck, rivaling the harsh movements of his lips. He ran his fingers over her skin distractingly until they reached her breasts and it took only a few strokes there before he realized that Hermione was missing an important item of clothing.

He broke their kiss, and she looked up to see Draco’s eyes darkening, peering down to her chest where the cotton of her white nightgown couldn’t hide the arousal his kiss had caused. Without needing to look for herself, she knew her nipples would be peaked against the fabric; an undeniable admission to how much she wanted him.

Maybe this would be enough proof for him as to why she hadn’t bolted from the room or refused his touch.

Maybe he didn’t care anymore about the reason she’d stayed and felt only the primal need to keep his deliciously sinful promises.

She was unsure what thoughts were running through his mind, but when his gaze came back up to hers, she knew one thing for certain - she wouldn’t be leaving this room until she’d slept with Draco Malfoy.

♥️♠️♦️♣️ ♥️♠️♦️♣️ ♥️♠️♦️♣️ ♥️♠️♦️♣️ ♥️♠️♦️♣️

Open starter for canon characters only— because I need more interactions with them.

Anyone want to explore first meetings? Can be any canon character 😏

♥️♠️♦️♣️ ♥️♠️♦️♣️ ♥️♠️♦️♣️ ♥️♠️♦️♣️ ♥️♠️♦️♣️

A rain of bullets cascaded down onto the hot tarmac below. An array of blood curdling screams filled the air and then.. silence.

Just as quickly as the chaos had started, it had ended with the push of a button. The rules of the game had been fairly simple. Push the button on the other side of the arena before the timer ran out, all while avoiding the spray of bullets from the torrent guns lining the walls around them, along with the landmines hidden underneath the leaves on the ground. Typical Spades game that has resulted in the numerous deaths of the less psychically adapted players.

In fact, upon gathering his bearings and risking a quick glance around.. Chishiya had quickly arrived at the conclusion that he was the only player who had somehow survived this particular game. Ironic, considering Spade games were his least favourite.

With his hand still pressed firmly against the large red button, Chishiya allowed his breathing to calm. Was the game really over? It seemed so, but just in case.. his hand dared not to slip away from its position in fear that it was the only thing stopping those bullets from raining down around him again. He had done enough running for one day— and quite frankly, he wasn’t in the mood to further fatigue himself.

It was suspicious though.. why hadn’t that all too familiar robotic voice announced that the game had been cleared like it always did whenever the games came to a close? There had to be more to it.

Narrowed eyes searched the game arena for any sort of clue as to what came next, though the only sight he was met with were the fresh corpses of the fallen players. A dozen bodies lined the ground and still, Chishiya felt nothing. No sympathy. No guilt. No remorse. Nothing. But then again, why should he? Those people meant nothing to him. The only person who mattered was himself.

Selfish or not, he simply didn’t have it in him to care. Chishiya had stopped caring for humanity long ago, even before finding himself stuck in Borderland.

The blond had stopped seeing the other players as people as soon as he’d passed the first game. They were nothing more than pawns for him to discard of when they were of no use to him anymore. Simple stepping stones for him to use in order to get closer to the possibility of going home. Chishiya didn’t care how many people he had to sacrifice to get him home.

That much was evident given how he’d just used the other players as shields to get to the button.

His features remained schooled into a neutral expression with a hint of deep concentration slightly furrowing his brows. Hmph. Maybe he had screwed up this time. Maybe he needed another player to help him out given that he couldn’t move from the button.

A sudden thud to his left was what eventually brought him out of his thoughts, and Chishiya immediately turned his head to glance over his shoulder at the source. A person. He could see them from his peripheral vision.

Where the hell had they been hiding? That didn’t matter. A leisurely smirk tugged at the corner of his lips and he spoke up to finally break the silence.

“I knew I couldn’t be the only survivor.” Chishiya hummed, remaining in his current position in hopes that the chaos would cease to start up again. “Mind giving me a hand? Clearly the game isn’t over yet and if I take my hand off this thing..” The blond gestured with his eyes to the button, before flickering his gaze back over to the stranger. “Well, I think we both know what’s going to happen..”

Ok but imagine Tim seeing Bernard wake up from a nightmare for the first time I feel like Bernard would just completely shut down crying silent tears and would not go back to sleep.

he would just watch the door making sure nothing was entering the room that nothing was going to hurt him or Tim again. but what if Tim wasn’t asleep. He had probably been working late and didn’t go to sleep yet but Bernard had convinced him to lay in bed with him Bernard probably fell asleep but Tim coarse did not he was sat awake thinking about his current case.

well he was thinking about the case until Bernard went rigid in his arms.

Tim faked being asleep so he could see what was happening he just wasn’t expecting to feel his shirt dampen with Bernards tears he knew Bernard didn’t like people to see him cry so he waited. He waited until Bernard slowly untangle himself from Tim just for him to sit up and stare at the door. That was odd he knew Bernard had nightmares I mean how could he not.

but he’s never seen one. All he could think to do is wrap his arms around Bernard’s waist and hold him. It was an awkward position and probably gave away that he was not sleeping but he knew it was better than trying to make Bernard go back to bed. If Bernard needed to stare at the door to feel safe then Tim would let him.

of coarse he’s going to talk to him in the morning of what he can do to help and probably look into it on his own but for now all he needed to do was hold Bernard and wait.

wait till Bernard laid down in his arms again and hid his face in Tim’s chest and of coarse Bernard did Tim fell asleep after that. He just hoped that he would wake up next time.